IC:"There is no plan."The blunt reply came, as he looked about, trying to figure out what to do. Resources were limited, and options even more so. All in all, he had a handful of capable fighters still ready to go, and far more wounded than uninjured.

"Here's what we're going to do. The only direction we know the enemy is not, is that way." The technopath pointed back to the still burning wreckage of the Blackbird, and the furrow of destruction it had carved through the city. "We're going to have to pick our way over the wreckage. Injured first. Nathan, take Jesika and get going. Anyone with injuries worse than a scrape or minor bullet wound, go with him. Don't stop until you drop or you make it somewhere safe."

"Nero, you and anyone else still fight capable are sticking with me. We're going to cover their retreat. I'm not going to order anyone to do this job, because I'll be blunt, there is a very good chance that we all die."Someone opened their mouth to speak, but Alex cut them off. "Matt, Christine, Aleks and Shadow are out of our reach. Trying to get them out of here is suicide. We'd be dead before we caught up.""Any questions?"

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

[color=#4b0082;]It had been too easy for me to loose the wolf-mutant within the dust-cloud. Once it had completely cleared I now stood on a rooftop overlooking the battle.[/color]

[color=#4b0082;]“Trip, Nightblade, Grenadier, Catapult, retreat if you can and re-group at our rally point. Leave the others they knew they would not be leaving her alive.” He said over the com. These were the few of his most trusted and highly trained assassins.[/color]

[color=#4b0082;]He’d lost a few of them like, bust still, a few lived on. He then turned and began down the nearest fire-escape. It seemed the show was drawing to a close. The X-Men were fleeing or dead. It had been an interesting turn of events when the Phoenix Force showed up, killing one of their own; one that I would be sure to take interest in.[/color]

IC: [color=#daa520;]Triblade [/color](Las Vegas)

[color=#daa520;]Matt had to get up, he knew he did or he would die. With his muscles burning and the bullet wound in his shoulder the blond still managed to get to his feet. He charged forward, blasting assassins out of the way with beams from his chest as he ran.[/color]

[color=#daa520;]He held a hand over his bleeding shoulder as he ran. He stood by Alex panting. “I’ll go with the other’s.” he said as he quickly moved into the Blackbird before grabbing Jeremy’s body.[/color]

[color=#daa520;]“Christine wanted to bury him, I’m going to make sure that happens.”[/color]

IC: [color=#008080;]Feral [/color](Las Vegas)

[color=#008080;]John heard Alex’s order over the com. He growled and opened his eyes before leaping off of the rooftop. He slashed his claws into a nearby wall as he fell; the adamantium cut through the cement and slowed his fall as sparks took to the air. He touched down on the ground and quickly sprinted over to Alex. “I’ll stand with you." he grunted. He glanced around; suddenly seeing Darkfang's body in Matt's arms. [/color]

[color=#008080;]"No..." he said. "NO!" Feral roared. John had liked Darkfang, in the last two months they had become pretty close. Jeremy had been one of the few people who hadn't seen him as an animal, as an actual person. John's head fell as a tear rolled down from his eye, hidden by his mask and red contacts. "Not elf..."[/color]

With the Scorpion dead, Scott planted the stinger int he middle of the things chest. It might bring back some memories of people who were in Japan about a year or so ago, Running quickly, Scott made back to the rest of the team. [color=#4b0082;]"[/color][color=#daa520;]Well, guess this is out last stand, huh?[/color]" drawing his katana once more, Scott was ready for a fight, even if his armor was pretty badly damaged. Almost half of his visor on the right side was gone. He had the forge repairing a dozen minor wounds all over his limbs.

[color=#4b0082;](Blake)[/color]

after hiding out in the dust cloud, Blake made his way back to the remains of the BlackBird. he had bullet in his left shoulder, but could still use the arm somewhat. [color=#4b0082;]"I'll go with the ones leaving. I can still fight and cover them as they get out."[/color]

0

War...war never changes.

We crawl, on our knees for you,under, a sky no longer blue, we sweat, all day long for you.

But we sow, seeds to see us though,cause sometimes dreams just don't come true, we wait, to reap what we are due.

[color=#8b4513;]The sound was frail, like it came from the throat of a baby cardinal; Aleksandr twitched slightly as he made the conscious effort to hold Rebekah's hand in his pale one, intertwining what fingers weren't laced with second degree burns with hers. He shook and bumped slightly as she ran, but not nearly as much as he would have with Matt carrying him like a football.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]"Of...course we did," he answered for himself. "We're...the X-Men, right? 'Course...'course we did."[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]He laughed, then - no, wait. He chortled, more like, blood bubbling up and combining with that sexy Russian drawl only Aleks had and staining the inside of his mouth. Disgusted with the taste, the laugh cut off abruptly, ending in a sigh through which you could almost hear bone fragments rattling in the thief's diaphragm like it was naught but an organic maraca.[/color]

IC:"There are no last stands." The technopath replied, shooting Scott a look, and jerking his thumb towards the others. "You're going with them. That is an order. You're in no shape to fight, and ultimately, you'll be a burden if you try and stay."

IC:"Like h*** you're not."

The reply was practically spat, viciously, from between clenched teeth. "You aren't dead yet, and I'll be ****ed if I'm going to let that status change now."

Ashlynn was gone, and exactly at the worst possible moment. Typical. The only other healer back with the X-Men wasn't strong enough to deal with this, which left exactly one option. A hospital. She didn't have to be a genius to know that the ones closest to the battle would be full, but the ones further away might have some space, especially for such a serious case.The best one she knew of was exactly three minutes out, at this speed.

Edited by Krayzikk Bieber, Feb 12 2013 - 04:39 PM.

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

[color=#006400;]I looked at Alex long and hard for a moment, and at everyone who was staying behind. I wasn't sure if I'd see them again. "Good luck..." I managed to say before I decided that it was a good time to get out of here. [/color]

[color=#006400;]To be honest I wanted to stay and fight with them, but Jesika was determined to stay with me, there was no real way for anyone to convince her otherwise. So I left with her, going as quickly as we could away from the fight. I'd make it my mission to make sure that her and anyone who followed us stayed alive. [/color]

[color=#006400;]Two of our number were dead, and many more critically injured. Though I stored away this thoughts for now. Getting the heck out of here was what I needed to keep thinking about. [/color]

[color=#0000ff;]Chris had rallied with the others, and at this point, checked the assault rifle that he'd been carrying since the start. He wanted to object, to follow Christine, but he couldn't do anything outside of hoping to be able to find his sister once this was over. Alex was right. They couldn't stay and fight.[/color]

[color=#000080;]Christopher re-appeared, taking a the shape of a Phalanx. He didn't have anything worse than a few burns, and he was sure that he could still fight.[/color]

[color=#000080;]"How are we going to get everyone out?" He asked, "Would you be able to get the Blackbird working again?"[/color]

IC:"Aleks, you just came out of a warzone. And you look the part. I don't think anyone is going to be calling you soft any time soon." The dark haired teenager replied, trying to keep her heart rate stable. It was starting to climb to the higher end of what could be called a healthy range.

"And so you are aware, if you die on me, I will find a way to harass you in the afterlife."

IC:Alex simply nodded silently. There was nothing to be said that hadn't already been said.

He looked at the ultimate Wild Card as if he had just asked the most stupid question on the face of the planet. "Yes, because I can totally get a smoldering wreck operational with no parts and no tools."

Edited by Krayzikk Bieber, Feb 12 2013 - 04:48 PM.

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

[color=#000080;]Jeff groaned, his head pounding something fierce. His eyes slowly opened, giving him a rather hazy and blurry vision. The lighting was rather dark thankfully and didn't hurt his eyes. [/color]

[color=#000080;]As he slowly came to, he took in his surroundings. He released he was in a bed, a glance around the room confirmed that he was in fact, in a hospital room. Not that he'd been in a hospital very often, but it was easy to recognize. [/color]

[color=#000080;]As his mind slowly rebooted his eyes widened. Gabriel! He tried to sit up, only for the pain all over his body and especially his head to increase. Okay...that was a bad idea... He thought, groaning. He felt his forehead carefully, it was bandaged up pretty tight. [/color]

[color=#000080;]He assumed Gabriel was somewhere in the hospital as well, he just hoped his friend was alright. Not knowing was even more tormenting than the pain he felt.[/color]

[color=#000080;]Of course, no one seemed to be around, he was all by himself, bedridden and left with unanswered questions. [/color]

Power(S): Marcus has an unusually effective combination of abilities. The first of these is power over illusions, the ability to beguile the target’s senses. In fact, he can do so very well. Without outside knowledge, it is seldom possible to tell his illusions about from the real thing. Smaller, simpler illusions are easy to maintain, and take minimal effort. Large scale constructs, though they demand more focus, are equally simple to create. Illusions are limited only by the imagination of the caster, and Marcus has grown very inventive with his skills.Skills that are further augmented by his telepathic abilities. With his background, he is frighteningly adept at slipping past mental defenses, or manipulating the mind. Though he is not as skilled as the late Charles Exavier, there are few other benchmarks one could compare him to. His is without a doubt more powerful than the newest generation, though whether or not this is due to raw power or how his powers are used is uncertain.

Appearance: Few people actually know what Marcus looks like. Even those who do may not know for certain if the man they are speaking to is his true appearance. He has several guises he commonly adopts, but only one among them is the truth. He often wears business suits, always dark in color and often with a red or maroon button up shirt beneath the coat. Not that the fashion matters much; he can look like whatever he likes.

Weapons: A Walther PPK, a weapon made famous by the British spy James Bond, holstered at his waist.

Skills: As a former FBI profiler, Marcus has a detailed knowledge of the human psyche. Both in diagnosis and in practice, he can find what the integral parts of one’s mind are, and use them to manipulate or strike. He also is a good shot with his gun, though he prefers to avoid using it.

Personality: Marcus is, at his core, a very pragmatic individual. He detests excessive force, and despite being willing to do almost anything to achieve his goals, he does so as cleanly as possible. He is also a master of deception, and very good at telling people exactly what they want to hear.

Weakness: Marcus’ illusions do not affect machines. While he could influence what anyone looking or listening to the machine might observe, the machine’s data itself is incorruptible by his illusions. Second, he is an average physical combatant. As such, he will avoid outright combat whenever he can, instead preferring to use trickery and misdirection.

Bio: Nothing is known of Marcus’ past. At least, nothing that can directly be linked to him. Any crimes he commits are carefully designed to ensure that he leaves no trace of his presence behind, and he all but fell off the map after he was forced out of his position when his powers manifested. His goals are unknown, but he among those who know him, he has a distinctly anti-X-Men sentiment about him.

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

IC: "You really thought we couldn't help you with that?" Anton sighed, "We're a team of mutants, you don't think we have to fend of the Enforcers, or right-wing fringes, or other hardball nutcases who want to shut us down. Come on, give us some credit. How do you think I've lasted this long?"

IC: Alec had been a little cut off from the other commands. Some weirdo was playing bagpipe music over the coms. Eventually he managed to find a channel that worked, and picked up on the general "argh we're doomed, flee for your lives" vibe and made for the rendez-vouz

IC: The blades his Tyrone's back weren't moving fast enough. Two sword held in a defensive stance were only going to cause a couple of wounds, with minimal damage. So the X-Man kept running, barreling into Nightblade like a force of nature

NPC: Trip heard the command and nodded to himself. Since feral had left of his own accord, he followed suit, heading back to Harbinger

NPC: Grenadier's outfit was made for protection, designed to block out gases and other corrosive materials. It worked just as well at stopping blades, simply through virtue of being so thick and dense.

It was not so good with bullets.

The bullet punched through all layers of his uniform and hit his spine (ironically similar to what he'd just inflicted on Julia), upon which it shattered a little and sent fragments spiralling through his innards. He went down like a sack of bowling balls and certainly wouldn't be getting up again in this fight

[color=#008080;]Will regarded Anton with a look that could be familiar to him.[/color]

[color=#008080;]Fear.[/color]

[color=#008080;]Fear of discovery, Fear of Death. He'd grown up hearing that mutants were "bad" and didn't deserve to exist. The fact that the Enforcers knew meant that they might tell his parents. And if his parents and family knew, he'd be worth nothing but dirt to them.[/color]

[color=#008080;]That was the look he gave Anton.[/color]

[color=#008080;]He took the paper again, thought for a moment, and wrote upon it once more.[/color]

IC Kristy"Oh ****," Kristy thought to herself. Following Ultimate Christopher, she eventually came to the rest of the group. "No escape craft, no teleporter, and only one healer," she muttered, more to herself than to anybody else. "Where can we go?" Kristy took this time to reflect on her uncharacteristic behavior over the past two months. She had become less like herself and more like Vincent for some strange reason, even though they never really talked. Weird, the old her would probably have been screaming and crying by now.IC KnowerI continued looking through the data, even though I had realized a long while ago that I wasn't going to find out anything too important. Still, I needed something to keep me occupied; otherwise, I'd probably spaz out. Sighing, I went back to my work, waiting for the world to give me something to do.

[color=#00ff00;]Christine flew over the buildings of Las Vegas. It was eerie it seemed that every bird in the city was hanging over the battle field. She flapped her borrowed wings as she followed the trail of Shadow and Aleks’ familiar brain signatures using Ashlynn’s telepathy. She had to hurry; she couldn’t let them get too far away before Ashlynn’s powers wore off.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Shadow you have to stop, I can heal him. Christine tried to send her telepathically. I took Ashlynn’s powers, please. A normal hospital won’t be able to save him in time.[/color]

IC: NPC Nightblade

Nightblade was knocked backwards he grunted in pain from the hard blow, dazed for a moment. He lashed out with his blades at Tyrone since he was so close.

IC:But the message, already faint, didn't get past her mental shielding. And even if it had, she wouldn't have stopped. Regrouping with Christine, who was already miles behind them, would have taken far too much time, time they didn't have. And in all honesty, at this point, a hospital stood a better chance of getting him stabilized in time.

Not that any of these thoughts occurred to the former Weapon as she slid to a halt in the hospital lobby. People stared, instantly recognizing Rebekah as a mutant.

"Relax. I'm unarmed." Kind of. "But he needs medical attention, right now. He's not going to last much longer otherwise."

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

Name: Kenner NewlandCodename: NovocainAge: 34Gender: MaleFaction: Weapon-X (Defected), Hellfire ClubPower(S): Novocain has the power of chain lighting, and also half of his body is a cybernetic machine. This machine is made up tiny nano-bots that can repair his robotic half and can also shift his machine hand from a metal hand into a blade or a canon that discharges a powerful red blast of energy.Weapons: He likes to carry around surgical knives, a buzzsaw and even syringes filled with different chemicals.Skills: Novocain is an excellent inventor. He is beyond a genius and can create and master scientific experiments that would be science fiction to most people. Gene splicing? Cloning? Turning people into mutants or monsters? He’s done it all and more. Personality: Novocain is quite complex. He is incredibly intelligent, far beyond that of normal people, but his intelligence is hidden by his extreme level of insanity.

Novocain is literally bat-**** crazy. His insane side leads him to often do sadistic acts like torturing people or playing with dead things. He has been known to ramble on about random things and often times his humor is dark and goes over people’s heads. Novocain has been known to kill people on a random whim.Weakness: Novocain is incredibly insane; which can hinder him. He’s had little to no combat training and can only rely on his new power and machine half for combat.Bio: Kenner was once a talented and upcoming scientist. He was incredibly intelligent and his experiments were close to rocking the scientific world, though they were radical in nature.

The scientist worked trying to find cures for various diseases when he was approached by several Weapon-X agents, offering him a job to become a scientist for them, and potentially earn a huge sum of money. Kenner accepted the offer and moved to their facility. Weapon-X was charging Novocain with creating the perfect super soldiers. Warriors, who would be able to lift semi-trucks, deflect almost all damage and run at incredible speeds.Weapon-X told him that the soldiers would be used for the betterment of all mankind. So Kenner went to work. He recreated the famous Super Soldier serum as best as he could, he lacked test-subjects though so he injected himself with his own serum, which he named Nitroids. It turned him into a massive, bulky monstrosity.

It lasted for several hours in which Novocain became incredibly strong and fast. When it wore off it was apparent that the Nitroids had driven him completely insane. It had also ravaged his body. His muscles had terrible degenerated after growing so big and then deflating, the same with his bones. Kenner’s every move became a terrible pain. So he began injecting himself with Novocain to numb his pain. It worked, and soon he earned himself the nickname Novocain because of his addiction.

The now insane doctor spent many years working for Weapon-X, creating twisted and sadistic experiments for them while also experimenting and augmenting their mutant Weapons. He brainwashed them and toyed with their mind, gave them knew abilites and even coated John Howlett’s skeleton in adamantium.

Novocain was also responsible for the murder of Liliana’s parents. He’d been sent to capture a young mutant and take her back to Weapon-X.

Eventually the group of X-Men turned Weapons attacked the base along with their Brotherhood allies. Novocain activated his Red-Wave machine which turned all of the Weapon-X humans into mutants, including himself; which is how he gained chain-lighting abilites. Then, Liliana’s cousin: Nathan attacked Novocain and after a small battle part of the base exploded and debris rained down on Novocain crushing half of his body. He survived though, by activating a half finished cyborg suit he’d been creating. He fused the suit with himself, which allowed him to survive and stabilized him.

However Weapon-X was destroyed. The mad-doctor left his destroyed lab behind before he moved to the Hellfire mansion. He joined the Hellfire Club as their new scientist. Within his new lab he began to work on a special virus project for Shaw.I suppose his profile needs approval? ;p

OOC: Well, since he's already in the game, and nothing is really wrong with his profile, I'll give Novocain one approval. Also, doesn't this mean you'll have to get rid of one of your other characters?IC: Malus, Shaw, Julia, Jordan, ZackMalus sighed as if the identity of Phillip MacMarr should have been common knowledge."Of course you don't know him," he muttered, "but I have a feeling that, with all your resources and connections, you would be able to locate the man."He closed his eyes and took a deep breath."He's a mutant of African-American descent. Bald, about six-foot-three, with red eyes and charcoal-colored scars running across most of his body. He also controls electricity, and when he does, it's always red."He opened his eyes and looked at Shaw."Will that be sufficient?"Shaw nodded."And what will you give us in return for tracking down this individual?" Shaw asked.Malus bowed and gave a flourish with his hand."Only my complete servitude. You will find that I will become much more useful once I have...met with Mr. MacMarr."Soon enough, Julia had joined the congregation of X-Men near the Blackbird. She was still clutching her abdomen where she had been shot, but she would be fine soon enough."I'm alright," she said in reply to the concerned glances she received from a few of her teammates. She paused a moment to catch her breath and listen to Alex’s plan, then went with Nero’s team, and Jordan soon followed.Zack stood and ran after Ashlynn, shouting, “Ash! Wait! You don’t have to do this!”But alas, he soon realized his efforts were futile. Ashlynn was gone and there was no chance of getting her back. For a moment, he just stood there, staring off into the distance, silently and foolishly begging her to come back, mentally screaming that this wasn’t her only choice. With a final breath, and one lingering glance into the distance, he turned and jogged over to where the remaining X-Men were gathered.

[color=#008000;]Warren looked at Silver as if she was crazy, "Uhm, I wouldn't do that. People find that I'm a bit... Shocking. Uhm... Anyway, is there someone of importance that I can talk to? There's a vistor here."[/color]

IC:A quiet whistling echoed through the streets of New York City, clearly audible in the morning air. The whistler himself was a tall man who looked to be in his forties, dressed impeccably in a black suit, with a gray shirt beneath. A briefcase was held in his left hand, his right casually held in his pocket.

He had just come from an office block near Times Square, more specifically, the Enforcer’s local outpost. Nothing too advanced, just a local registration office. The big office wasn’t even on Manhattan, not following the destruction of Enforcer Tower. But this one did serve his purposes. Namely, it had a direct link to the Enforcer’s database. Of course it was only available to employees who knew the password, but that was hardly a problem. A single mental intrusion gave him all the information he needed, and a second wiped the incident from the official’s mind altogether.

A careful application of passwords taken from another Enforcer weeks earlier, and he could access the information level of the database. Not basic profiles, but the suspicions of known mutants. More specifically, the X-Men. None of them were registered mutants, but some details had been ascertained.

Their known group was varied. Smith, a wanted terrorist, had the most available information. His parents, apparently, had spoken to the Enforcers and told them everything they wanted to know. Technopathic with some kind of invisible force. Not seen for several months.The Summers girl was another easy one. Her appearance and powers gave her away almost at once, based on the abilities shown through previous encounters, and the footage a rogue commando element showed on national TV. A usage of the Phoenix Force, in fact. Brief, almost unnoticeable, but the Enforcer analysts picked it up upon reviewing the footage.

Howlett was easy as well. His costume, reported mannerisms, and abilities were a dead giveaway. The rest, however, were not quite so conclusive. Beast was known to still be alive, and there were basic profiles for most of the members, but few details.It served his purposes quite well, however. He didn’t need detailed information. Basic power outlines served him just fine. Personal data was far easier to come by, anyway. Accessing the census bureau’s data was child’s play.

All in all, his plans were proceeding perfectly. After the Las Vegas confrontation, based on the news reports, the X-Men would be severely weakened. The Brotherhood had already been forced back to Genosha, a location that they would no doubt soon be attacked at. Weapon X had already been eliminated, though admittedly it would have been useful if they had stuck around for a while longer. They were the most easily manipulated group, compared to the others.A brief change of appearance later, and he had departed, making sure that any footage of his presence was erased. Even if it was noticed, which was unlikely, there would be nothing they could do.As usual, Marcus Suter had accomplished his goal and left nary a trace of evidence behind. His footsteps carried him toward Central Park, an almost unconscious desire for a long walk coming over him. He needed to think, and his thinking was best done in motion.

Forces are brewing, He mused. Forces beyond that view of these organizations and their narrow focus. Public opinion of the X-Men has soured, and it will take but a bit of fanning to turn this ember of distrust into an inferno. Based on all known reports, Las Vegas shall do just that. The Brotherhood need no further assistance, they are already monsters in the public eye. But these two are not the only gathering storms. Other powers are at work, powers that it would be best not to tamper with, or risk earning their ire.But as usual, no matter what, I shall come out on top. It matters not to me who wins the coming war.

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

[color=#8b4513;]Have you ever heard the one about the newborn baby that killed a man? His name is Aleksandr Belikov. Was. Is. Could still be.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Aleksandr Belikov.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Buried underneath an askew chunk of concrete in one of the worst parts of Murmansk, Russia, underneath snow and dirt and worm colonies and probably a dislodged chunk of a plutonium device that could level the entire Vegas strip, the one remaining Polaroid of my father is rolled up like a cigarette and protected from the elements and God's prying eyes. If not for that Polaroid, I could invent what the man who gave birth to me looked like. I could give him a Sid Vicious style set of liberty spikes, if I'd wanted, or maybe an Adonis physique.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Maybe I'd give him blue eyes, but probably not. Mum said I got my father's eyes; stripping them from her would be the worst of sins.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]You could get caught sinning a lot in Murmansk, but you never got caught. The cops knew my father. How couldn't they? How could they not recognize my dad, when every time they looked down to take a whiz they saw his blood, spattered across their hands from where they'd killed him to cover their own tracks, saw the chalk on their fingertips where they haphazardly marked an outline of the way his body fell with two bullets in the head, his eyes - my eyes - demolished and flecked with lead inside their sockets, the chalk outline that got filled in like a Crayola coloring book by the snow that you could never drink once it melted because Murmansk's ground was toxic to the touch if you put your tongue to it.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]The place I was born polluted you. If not physically, it got you emotionally; if not emotionally, it got you mentally; if not mentally, it got creative.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]The cops knew my father, so I never got caught caught sinning in Murmansk, which is good. If she'd lost me, Mum would have starved to death, frozen inside our cave of a one bedroom apartment where to keep warm she shoved me under the bed every night and positioned old junk she fished out of back alleyways so that I had just enough room to breathe through the porous little Rube Goldberg contraption that was our sleeping arrangement. If anyone every broke in, Mum said, they'd think she was just a hoarder, wouldn't rifle through all the garbage by her bed to look for me. They'd just off her and then I could move on.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]American children, they counted sheep every night to doze off. Me, I counted blood and ###### and semen stains on the bottom of my mother's mattress, my mother so frail and fatless like a post-plucked chicken that you couldn't even see where her outline ended and the rest of the mattress really began. American children, with pillows. And blankets. The good life. Me, going to sleep smelling burnt out cathode rays from old TVs, dead animals, and what could have been asbestos.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]The good life. The bad life.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Matt Summers. Aleks Belikov.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]The first person to ever call me Aleks was my Mum, and for the longest time I hated it. I think this was kinda what made the name stick, because just to needle me my mother, a total mouse of a woman, all 5'4 and brunette and maybe 110 pounds tops, she called me Aleks or Aleksei every single day after that until I left Russia. My mother was beautiful. Physically, emotionally, mentally, creatively. Just an absolute goddess.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]I called her by her real name - Katerina Belikov. She was never Mum to me until I became an adult, oddly enough, she was always Katerina. It felt natural, and unlike a lot of moms, who would have beat the snot out of me until I submitted, she stuck with Katerina. And I stuck with Aleks. And we stuck together, Katerina and Aleks, until the day that I was recruited into the Russian Mafia. She hated the very concept, hated the idea of me doing anything more than petty thievery, but in the end I convinced her that it was all for her. She and I, together. We could escape Murmansk.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Give it time, Katerina Belikov, I had cooed into my mother's arms as she hugged me and cried and cried and cried before my initiation, and they will sing your song across the world.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]They'd told me at the initiation that night that my family was second nature from here on, that Katerina Belikov was now my family through blood only. They'd told me that from here on out, Bratva was my family. I was amongst equals, a shadow amongst the shadowiest, and I was now as perfect as I was anonymous. Bratva was my God; believe in Bratva, and we would live together, forever. A family.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Family. People you love.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Christine Marie. Rebekah Fell. Matt Summers.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Katerina.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]And then the Colonel came calling, and even amongst Bratva the Colonel must have been a little bit feared because when he said he needed a liaison, I was offered up like a post-plucked chicken, like my mother before me, and I was on the first plane to America. At customs, they asked me my name, and my heart skipped a beat. What was my name?[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]They all start to sound the same after a while, so it was really of no consequence which name I used. That said, there was something about the anonymity of Aleks English that I dug. Plain, yet masculine. Sexy. Something to be remembered. You could find a movie star named Aleks English, see him get nominated for Best Actor at the Oscar's, your heart wouldn't skip a beat because Aleks English just sounds like an actor.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Starring Aleks English, as James Bond. Can you imagine people losing their minds if a Commie Ruskie pinko like Aleks English played James Bond? It would've almost been worth it.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Katerina couldn't handle it: with no Aleks around, coke, codine, mollies, spice, amps, all of these became Mum's family until eventually her mind was so shot that at any given moment, she was liable to forget everything about herself, where she was, the situation at home and abroad, everything.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Except her Aleksei.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]She's clean, now. Or, at least, she was when we talked at Christmas. Mom was always fragile; I'm not sure what her resolve is like. I'd like to think the best. She deserves nothing but.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Speaking of the best, Rebekah's rushed me into the trauma wing of the hospital now, and I can tell we must be a sight because she's explaining herself even as doctors rush over, gurney already done up and waiting for me. Rebekah.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]I have to say her name. Thank her. Tell her I still care. That I'm still her Aleks, if she needs me to be.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Rebekah Fell.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Someone's speaking, a male doctor with a low, assuaging Southern accent. Why do Southern accents always sound hotter on chicks than on guys? And why do girls from the South get hotter the farther South they live?[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]For a second, I wonder where Christine was born. Then I realize that, for a second, I don't know where Christine was born. Mississippi, right? South Carolina? [/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Christine Marie. My Southern belle.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Not twenty minutes ago, we kissed for the first time, and it was a rush: not just because she was sucking away my memory and powers, because she was, but because it was genuine. Passionate. Caring.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Christine.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]There's tubes and fluids everywhere as my condition tries to stabilize. Black unconsciousness is gnawing away at me, its teeth sinking into me. No, wait. Those are IVs.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Unconsciousness doubles down, all or nothing. I don't have the hand to back my poker face; my bluff falls as I slowly start to give up the fight. Aleks, the master pickpocket, the dashing Russian thief. The quitter.[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Beeps, urgent orders all around me. The beeping of medical monitors. Is that Rebekah, crying, in the distance?[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Aleksandr...Aleksander...[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]Which one am I again?[/color]

[color=#8b4513;]And then, just like the ending of the Sopranos, it all cuts to black.[/color]

The emergency room waiting area was clear, vacated by every individual within save one. It had been full, mere minutes before when the dark haired girl first arrived. But word spread quickly, both of the patient she had delivered into the doctor’s hands and of her mutant status. The room cleared out moments after, all of the occupants finding reasons to have to leave, or appointments to make. Even the most vigilant family members departed, not wanting to be in the same room as the girl that had arrived.It wasn’t surprising. In fact, had her mind been on the subject, Rebekah would have been surprised it took as long as it did for them to leave. With the battle raging mere miles away, any mutant was worthy of suspicion, and possible fear. Especially the one who had carried a dying friend for several miles on foot, and was somehow unharmed herself.

But these thoughts were the furthest thing from her mind, instead, she sat in a state of agitation, too worried to form clear thoughts. Portents of doom flashed through her mind, images of broken bones, and Aleks’ body battered and broke, all set to a constant background of his scream. She saw in her mind’s eye once more as Matt threw him carelessly over his shoulder, aggravating already horrific wounds. She didn’t need the doctor’s diagnosis to know that a weaker man would already be dead, dead long before he made it to the operating table. She had seen, and delivered, similar wounds. Never all at once, but even individually she had never needed to do more.

She had arrived too late. Too late to stop him from getting hurt in the first place, and only time would tell if she had been fast enough to make a difference at all. Frantic orders and beeps filled the room beyond the doors, barely audible to her trained ears.

Rebekah sat alone, almost statue-esque in her unmoving posture. Only the rise and fall of her chest indicated that any life remained within her, even as violet eyes stared intently at the door that separated her from the desperate battle to save his life. She wanted to help. She wanted to do something, to be useful. But alas, the former Weapon though bitterly, my skills lie in distributing death. Not stopping it.

There is no enemy to fight here. There is no foe to overcome, there is no way to win. I cannot help, I cannot aid.

I can’t even remember him. Flashes, fragments, pieces of a larger whole. That is all I have. I have no clear memories of him before he arrived at the Institute, but I can tell they are there.

Rebekah could feel tears welling in her eyes, reflecting the turmoil within her mind. And yet,The heart remembers. No matter how many times the brain forgets, the heart remembers. It can remember everything as clear as day. Where the brain sees an acquaintance, the heart sees a dear friend.

There was but one clear moment amidst the blacked out portions of her mind. A single flash of color in a see of emptiness. She had no dates to compare it with, but she knew that it was from a short time after meeting him for the first time. Aleksandr English, as he had first introduced himself. It was a single spark. A single spark of emotion in a deadened heart. It had been the first time, since the early weeks of her capture, that she had done anything but sit in silence on her bunk. The guards never noticed it, the bright gleam returning to a pair of long dead violet eyes. Never noticed when she started to come back to life, day by day. But she could remember it.

It had been the day that her will came back. A single spark of fighting spirit, slowly turning into a fire hour by passing hour. A spark that would consume her guards and those that tried to stop her escape, her flight for freedom. Even amnesia hadn’t stopped that spark.

And so she feared for the friend she could barely remember, the unwitting savior behind her freedom. The one who had, without even knowing it, dragged her back from the brink of despair.

“Dragunov, you better **** well pull through this.”

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

IC: Tyrone had time in between Nightblade stumbling, recovering, and beginning the attack to grab the assassin's arms and hold back the swords he was holding. using his superior strength he spun the pair round. He hadn't forgotten the telekinetically controlled swords, and wanted to be sure that if Nightblade had brought them swooping in they'd hit him, rather than stabbing Tyrone in the back.

That precaution taken, he started squeezing the assassin's arms. Break them, and he wouldn't be able to hold his swords, and the pain might disrupt his telekinesis

IC: Using his grapple to swing across the site, Alec eventually met up with the others.

"You might need to give me the cliff notes of what our exit strategy is, because we're going to need to pull it off soonish."

IC: "Does he want to see Beast?" Francesca suggested, "Visitors generally want to see Beast."

IC: "Well, and this is going to sound cliched, but have you ever considered just telling them yourself?" Anton suggested, "Perhaps learning their son is a mutant might convince them to start being a bit more open minded? Otherwise you're going to have to look over your shoulders your entire life."

Fauna got to her feet, using rubble as support. Everything around her, including the blood running down her side, seemed to fade away as the realization of what she had done hit her. "No...What have I done?" Fauna felt herself shift into the form of a golden eagle. She took flight, letting her instincts take over to deaden the pain that clutched her heart.

[color=#006400;]Ashlynn continued to fly through the air at a powerful speed, tears falling from her eyes. She hardly registered the large amount of birds as she flew. She ignored Zack’s telepathic calls for her to return. She couldn’t go back. She’d killed Jeremy, she’d killed a friend. As she flew her thoughts returned to Jeremy and the time she’d spent getting to know the blue mutant. [/color]

[color=#006400;]“Close your eyes,” Ashlynn said as she smiled at Jeremy. “Why vhat are you doing?” Jeremy asked her. “You’ll see.” She said. He did as he was told and suddenly he found himself transported to a beautiful landscape. They were sitting on a mountain top, overlooking a waterfall. [/color]

[color=#006400;]“Don’t worry Jeremy this is all an illusion,” she said. Jeremy looked around with awe. “Really? It feels so real,” he said as he looked down at his hands. His eyes widened with shock when he noticed that they weren’t blue or covered with fine hairs. He jumped to his feet and looked in a shallow pond on the rocky earth; looking at his reflection. His skin was pale, normal and his ears were rounded. [/color]

[color=#006400;]Gone was his three fingered hands and feet and his barbed tail. He looked completely normal, and human. “Thank you,” Jeremy said with tears in his eyes as he teleported over to Ash and hugged her. [/color]

[color=#006400;]“I always wanted to know what I would look like if I was born normal,” he said. [/color]

[color=#006400;]“But you are normal Jeremy; you’re a mutant just like me. Personally I think you look fine with blue skin, it’s what in here that counts.” [/color]

[color=#006400;]Ashlynn shook her head, removing the memory. It’s what in here that counts. What was inside Ashlynn? The Phoenix. Some shard of it. It had killed Jeremy. No she could never go back; they would only see her as a murderer. Which she was. She wished she could see Ric one last time before she vanished. But she knew he would only convince her to stay. She didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when she told him what happened. [/color]

IC: NPC CoTC (Las Vegas)

Nightblade grunted as both arms were snapped. He laughed deliriously in the face of pain.

“Die X-Man, ****ing die you pig.” he spat. Tyrone couldn’t anticipate his next move. Nightblade shoved his own swords through his back. They tore into his body, cutting through it like butter as they sliced through muscle, organ and bone. Finally the tips of the blades burst from Nightblade’s chest as they shot out at Tyrone’s own body. Since he was holding Nightblade in such close contact it appeared Tyrone might take some damage, though the swords probably would not go deep enough to be fatal.

IC:[color=#00ff00;] Mimic[/color] (Las Vegas)

[color=#00ff00;]Christine flew through the air, trying to control her emotions. Twenty minutes ago she’d been kissing Aleks for the first time. She’d felt her heart leap with joy at the contact. As a little girl growing up in southern Mississippi, Christine had only dreamed of getting out of the hick town she lived in. Every day was exactly the same, collect the chicken’s eggs, milk the cows, feed and brush the horses. The farm life had been hard work, but more then that Christine had yearned for something more.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Something more had soon come. Christine had developed fast for a girl. By the age of twelve she was what many men would call beautiful. Her hair was a vibrant brown and her eyes a pure emerald green, green like the pastures she’d been raised on. Well a farm help by the name of Billy had taken notice of Christine’s feminine changes and had taken a liking to her. She remembered meeting Billy beneath the oak tree every night at sunset.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]The farm was alive with the noise of crickets singing and cows sighing in the pastures. She remembered one such night when Billy came to see her. [/color]

[color=#00ff00;]It was like the others, they talked and laughed and dreamed about getting out of Mississippi and maybe moving to the big apple. Several minutes later little bobby had leaned in and pressed his mouth against Christine’s lips. She’d never been kissed before. It came as a total surprise. At first it was weird and alien. But after a few seconds she began to like it. She kissed Billy back now, enjoying the feeling of their lips brushing. Billy had wrapped his arms around her soon after, placing his bare hands on her shoulders, which were mostly revealed due to her lime-green tank-top. She placed her hand on his cheek as she kissed him.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]A few minutes later and she heard Billy start to choke and sputter and he stopped kissing her. Her big green eyes flew open as she took in Billy’s face. Pale, streaked with purple veins, “She’s screamed, grabbing Billy’s face and trying to see what was happening to him. Billy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and suddenly he was still.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Then something else happened. Something rushed into Christine’s mind. Billy. Everything that he was, every memory he’d ever had, his entire personality suddenly swarmed her mind. She found herself confused as she’d rooted through his memories. Who was she? Billy or Christine?[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Later that night her parents discovered her with Billy’s body. She had a new streak of white through her hair; it had formed as Billy’s memories had been pulled into Christine. They called her a freak of nature, a mutant, a killer. They told her terrible things, that she’d been abandoned on their farm, that they’d raised her out of pity. They said they’d hang her up for being a mutant and killing Billy. They called her the antichrist. But then a figure had appeared. He was beautiful in his sheer amount of power and authority that seemed to swirl around him as he appeared near them out of nowhere. He was fast. Faster then Christine could comprehend. He’d snapped both of their necks in a second flat. All she saw was a blur and their bodies fall before he was in front of her. She was scared, scared that he’d kill her, or hurt her. But really she was scared of herself. Scared of what she’d just done. The man instead brushed one of Christine’s white locks with the tips of his fingers. He had startling blue eyes and jagged white hair of his own.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]“Christine,” he’d breathed. “You are not alone.” He’d told her. She’d then learned about her real mother, about Rogue, about how she’d been taken here away from the Brotherhood while they learned if she was a mutant or not. She’d been watched. If her mutant powers had emerged then they were to take her back to the Brotherhood. She’d then remembered things. Strange things about when she was only a toddler, inside a big metal warehouse. She remembered strange people, and more then that she remembered her mother. Her real mother. After that Quicksilver had taken her back to the Brotherhood, and the rest was history.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Even now as Christine flew through the air on borrowed wings she still carried Billy with her; deep down in some crevice of her fractured mind Billy still resided; all of his memories, up to his last. His first and fatal kiss.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Christine landed on a rooftop as she struggled with these new memories, this new burden trapped in her mind. Jeremy. His memories were strong, and equally as painful. For a moment she lost who she was again. She was Jeremy Wagner now, a blue mutant who had been raised within a church. She looked into the glass panel of a building nearby and saw the reflection of Darkfang looking back at her with yellow eyes. She shook her head then and suddenly the reflection shimmered as she saw herself once again, Christine. Soul stealer.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Aleks. She had to find Aleks. Christine got to her feet again and flapped her wings. She reached out with her borrowed telepathic senses as she searched for Aleks or Shadow’s mental signature. She found them. They weren’t far away now. From the minds around them she could sense they were inside a hospital. Well she could sense Shadow’s mind anyway, Aleks’ was blank and empty and filled with darkness. Christine’s heart beat fast now as she flew through the air. She had to be fast, before Ashlynn’s powers wore away.[/color]

[color=#00ff00;]Several minutes later and she landed outside the hospital. Her hair which had turned a crimson shade when she touched Ashlynn slowly faded to her usual chestnut brown and white. The wings were pulled back into her shoulder-blades as her telepathy ebbed away. Christine pulled her green and white hood over her head as she stepped into the hospital, her green eyes searching the area as she scanned for a familiar face.[/color]

[color=#0000cd;]IC:"Delta. We're falling back. Targets are in full retreat, we cannot effectively follow. This one's for the ground troops." Jayne commented, Sieg's thrusters firing, and maneuvering the mech into the air. Even as he began to fly back, he sent word back to Enforcer HQ. The Phoenix Force had arisen again. It would take a matter of minutes once the message was received to turn all available resources to tracking the one who had used it. Since that day seventeen years ago, the Enforcers had been preparing for the day that it might return. They would not fail to contain it, at any cost.[/color]

"Interesting."Across the continent, a man in a suit read through the reports flowing across the Enforcer's databases. The Summers girl had used the Phoenix Force once again, prompting a full scale manhunt. The other X-Men had no way of leaving Las Vegas. They could be dealt with later. The rogue variable needed to be dealt with first.

A few taps of his fingers brought up the satellite imaging. They hadn't yet gotten a fix on the mutant, but they had an idea of what area she was in. And it would seem that airports and border patrols were being sent her picture.Perfect.

0

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

[color=#008000;]"I guess he does. I would like to see Beast too, if I knew where he was," Warren said, absentmindedly tapping a tune out with his right hand. Two beats. Pause. Two beats. Repeat.[/color]

[color=#008000;]He still was hungry for more power.[/color]

[color=#008080;]Will looked away. Sure he was afraid, afraid of rejection from his own parents, afraid of the Enforcers. He didn't want be worrying about hiding for his whole life. But on the other hand, he knew that it would be impossible to hide forever. The battle in Times' Square. The Battle last night. His injury. He couldn't hide that from his parents. Not for much longer.[/color]

I'll tell them them when I'm better, [color=#008080;]He wrote, not keen to directly confront his parents on him being a mutant. Not today anyway.[/color]